Archive for January, 2012

Grover Cleveland

January 30, 2012

Let me start this thing by saying that Grover Cleveland is not the full name of the Sesame Street character Grover.

Grover Cleveland is not The Monster at the End of this Book, if you will.

Grover Cleveland was our President.

And no, he wasn’t the one that got stuck in the bath tub. That was William Howard Taft.

Grover Cleveland had a great big mustache and fancy bow ties. He was also the only person to serve as the President of the United States of America for two nonconsecutive terms.

That’s right. While all the other get to claim one spot, like 6th, 29th, or 157th, Grover gets two.

22nd AND 24th.

Now… some of you who aren’t so historically inclined might be asking how that could happen.

Well, first off, it’s completely plausible. I mean, in most circumstances, you can be president twice. And… for most of the people that have done with, they just put the two terms together to cover the better part of a decade and then drop since they did their time.

But Cleveland didn’t.

He ran, mind you. He wanted a second term as the POTUS.

But, like many other great things in our country, Republicans screwed it up.

Cleveland was a democrat, and he was running against the GOP’s offering of Benjamin Harrison.

Harrison was a cock-sure greying ex-Whig from Indiana.

Now, Grover was ahead in the popular, but something happened in one state that screwed up everything and swung the election in the way of Harrison.

No. Not “hanging chads.”

Actually, the Republicans paid so-called “Blocks of Five” for their votes, something that is intensely illegal if you weren’t already aware. I had a feeling you were, though.

So, Harrison’s boy pay tons of cash to people to win their votes, and even though he didn’t win the popular vote, he paid enough in his home state of Indiana win that state.

That won him enough electoral votes.

That won him the Presidency.

But, somewhere in Harrison’s presidency, his wife took ill. After four years in office, in which the GOP appointed Harrison their candidate, Harrison decided not to campaign on his own. He had aids and cabinet members do his electioneering so he could spend time with his ailing wife.

Now, a lesser man would have taken the low road and gone on the campaign trail against Harrison, making claims that his wife was dying due to syphilis that was contracted during a slave rape decades ago and passed to the loving wife on a rare anniversary evening tryst.

But what did Cleveland do?

He stayed home. He didn’t want to use Harrison’s dying wife against the suffering, despondent man, so he stayed home and let others campaign for him.

America knew what they were missing, and they knew they had been cheated 4 years before.

Grover Cleveland was president once more.

Plus, his name was Grover. Awesome.





This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks to Sam Jones for her educational contribution this week.

I don’t really know who knows what about him, but I always thought it was interesting that he had split terms and that it was actually due to cheating Republicans.

I guess the tradition of cheating is alive and well today. Isn’t that right, Newt?


Truly ghjr


Manuary, Pt. 3: Morning Wood

January 27, 2012

The glorious privilege of manhood is an experience. The road to becoming a man is paved with some unpleasantries, like beard itch, ball pain and prostate exams.

Aside from those, manhood is pretty good.

I know this crazy little thing that I love to call “MANuary!” seems to have a record of being about the unpleasant things. Some would say that the nearly ever-present morning wood is one.

I’m here to say different.

The so-called “morning wood” is the sign of a man and a symbol of every man represents: strength, endurance, stubbornness and libido.



Look me in the eye and tell me that those erections aren’t the biggest and strongest ones that you’ve had. Frankly, they should be.

Fueled by hours of intimate, intriguing and sometimes intimidating sex dreams that we all experience. Yes, sometimes the dream is confusing, and sometimes the fact that the confusing dream was arousing is even more confusing.

Doesn’t matter. They are boner fuel, and sometimes they are grand enough to push you off of your stomach in the morning.



You guys already know about this one.

You can’t even pee with one of these things.

Sometimes, it’s so persistent that you have to ::AHEM::…

“take care” of it in the morning.

Don’t be ashamed, gentlemen. It happens to the best of us.




Sometimes, you have to “take care” of it more than once.

Enough said.



Some men are ashamed of their erections. I’ve never been able to figure this one out.

It’s a display of libido, of young blood pumping through the heart and to places beyond.

Namely, the penis.

Seriously. Nothing says “manly” like pitching a tent in the bed sheets. Isn’t that what Viagra is about?

I don’t know. I’m 23, so I don’t need pills yet.

Now, there are some situations in which morning wood can get you into trouble and cause a lifetime of embarrassment.

1. Many young men still live with Mom and Dad. It happens. I’m not here to judge.

If Mom sneaks into the bedroom to put some socks away and you’ve got your flag at full staff, that might be awkward.

If she sees it through the comforter, that’s definitely awkward.

If she likes it… well, I’ll include the number for Jerry Springer at the end of this post.

2. If you fall asleep in some sort of social situation (school, friend’s house, bar, museum) and your Henry Wadsworth Longfellow thinks it’s morning, look up.

But, maybe the cute girl next to you in History class well see and give you her number.

Probably not. She’ll probably embarass you in front of her friends.

Regardless, cheers, men.

Enjoy manhood.

Celebrate your boners. They are God’s thumbs up.

After all, all the Christians say we are the hands of God, and we all know what part of us is the thumb.




This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks to Tristram Salisbury, who knows a thing or two about morning wood, for asking to hear what I have to say about morning wood.

It turns out that I have used “morning wood” more in this post than I have in the past 10 years.

Don’t let that sentence fool you, ladies. I use my personal morning wood every chance I get.


Truly ghjr


Manuary, Pt. 2: Beard Itch

January 23, 2012

Men everywhere (and certain women, but that’s another 500 words) are walking around God’s beautiful Earth in His glorious, bearded image.

I have always considered myself lucky to be one of these men.

Yes, my beard is just a little on the patchy side these days, and it’s definitely not the same color as the hair on my head or other places. I blame my father for that.

I’ve only seen one picture of that man with a beard, but it’s exactly like mine: oddly reddish and sticks out ridiculously far from the face.

Also, I’d rather inherit the Hayhurst beard than the Hayhurst nose or the Hayhurst ears. Trust me.

But, every once in a great while, I run into some snag in my life and I am forced to shave my beard.

I’ll admit, I’ve only done a clean shave 3 times since I started working on this beauty, and those were only in matters of great importance.

Of course, by that, I mean it was for Halloween costumes.

It’s a bit of an event, you know? To cut a beard that you’ve had for what seems like your whole life is almost a traumatic experience. The pull and tug of the razor on pale, perpetually stubbled skin is like a gash against the heart.

Each swipe is enough to wreck a lesser man.

And by the time you have finished, it seems like a hundred civilizations have raised from dirt and passed away, returning to the dust from whence they were raised.

To steal from Kurt Vonnegut, “Lucky me. Lucky mud.”

Shaving is almost like getting a tattoo. Follow me now.

There’s a bit of pain and burning when the sharp, metal implement is being dragged across the flesh.

Perhaps a bit of blood here and there, but usually nothing serious.

And as the skin turns less red and heals from the experience, something happens.

The pain fades into something far worse.


Now, you and I both know that if you start scratching, two things will happen.

ONE: It will never be satiated. It will simply continue to itch. That’s just how it goes.

TWO: It will hurt you more than any pain that sharp, metal implement could ever cause you.

Now, perhaps there is a reason for this.

For those of you that haven’t blessed your bodies with the addition of ink, I’ve got some news for you.

They shave you beforehand.

So, after a day or so of healing and well before the peeling, the fine hairs begin to grow back in, and it itches and burns.

Now, imagine that the hairs aren’t so fine. They are basically one step up from pubes.

And now, instead of growing back on your ankle, forearm or tramp stamp area, imagine the hairs burst through the follicles on your face.

Beard itch simply feels much more like lighting your face on fire.





This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks to Ashton Cutright for this, Part the Second of the Glorious Celebrate of Sweat, Swearing and Semen: MANUARY!

I figured you ladies would be able to connect with the tattoo metaphor since I know most of my female readers are tattooed.

How do I know?

You all leave your curtains open at night.


Truly ghjr